


A Lovely Night

by posnufkin



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), La La Land (2016)
Genre: Crossover, La La Land, M/M, Out of Character, Song fic, breaking clothing gender roles bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:42:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posnufkin/pseuds/posnufkin
Summary: In which Alex is Sebastian and Justin is Mia.





	A Lovely Night

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, I've been meaning to write this since 13rw came out and I was listening to la la land at the same time (multitasking amirite) so yeah thanks I hope you enjoy. Sorry it may be a bit OOC and I had to change the original script at times. Also the italics are a flashaback, hope that isn't too confusing!

Eleven months, 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, 12 seconds. That’s how long it’d been since Justin Foley vanished off the face of the earth for no apparent reason, leaving no explanation behind, no closure for anyone who had cared. Not that Alex was counting, because that’d be weird. But he had started to forget about the brown haired jock that broke his heart since moving to LA. That is until today, until Alex saw the unforgettable face staring at him from across the pool, and that’s when the walls came crumbling down. His padded fingers slipped on the guitar neck, pressing over a fret and making a horrific twanging sound, earning him a glare from the lead singer of whatever shitty tribute band he was playing in. Who even knows what’s happening anymore? Alex sure as hell certainly doesn’t. Regaining his composure, he glances back down at his hands, watches the way that his fingers dance across the fretboard. Watching, but not really paying attention, his mind preoccupied with the thought of Justin’s eyes burning into his scalp. His cheeks redden slightly as he remembers that he hasn’t dyed his hair in months, fuck when was the last time he even washed his hair? God he must look like a mess, which is fairly accurate but not exactly the point. Isn’t there that whole thing when you see your ex that you’re supposed to look amazing and like you actually have your life together? Then again, were he and Justin even classed as exes? An intoxicated one night stand doesn’t exactly qualify as relationship material, not in Alex’s eyes and certainly not in Justin’s (given the fact that the jock skipped town less than a week after the incident). 

The crash of cymbals disrupts Alex’s train of thought, and he awkwardly clears his throat, stealing a quick glance across the pool again. Justin’s nowhere to be seen, and Alex can’t quite decide whether or not he’s happy about that fact. He doesn’t even know why he’s here, why either of them are here. LA is one of the last places he’d expect Justin to go, but then again Alex doubts people back home would view him as the LA type either. ‘Home’ is a word he hasn’t spoken aloud since he got here, he hasn’t even interacted with anyone who would ask about where he’s from, the only people he’s come into contact with are retail workers, home delivery personnel, and a few musicians in tribute bands here and there. Not exactly best friend material. 

“Alright, one more for y'all before we break. Do I hear any requests?” Alex despises the singer, Mark or something; his voice is irritating and reminds him of sand paper. His eyes wander over the crowd, or lack thereof, and he wonders if he could have been a guest at this party in some alternate life where he had developed a friendship group when he moved here, instead of living like a hermit and refusing to socialize. It’s not like he was ever any good with relationships of any kind, what good would fucking up even more people’s lives do? 

“Wonderwall.” Alex’s head snaps back round, making eye contact with a smirking Justin standing right in front of the makeshift stage. ‘Fuck you, Foley.’ Alex thinks, eyes narrowing as Justin’s smile widens.

“Wonderwall it is,” God what Alex would give to bang Mark and Justin’s heads together, “Wanna start us off guitar man?” If anything ‘Guitar Man’ would be a less insulting song, seriously who the fuck wants to play ‘Wonderwall’? It’s literally the simplest song, but he plays, much to his hearts discontent and refuses to take his angered stare off of Justin, who’s grinning at him like he just won the lottery. Mark’s grating voice drills into Alex’s skulls, but after a while of watching Justin dance like an absolute tosser, he finds the annoyance in the back of his mind beginning to fade away, to the point where it’s just background noise. He’s missed Justin, even if he hates to admit it, and it’s not like Alex was perfect before Justin vanished. They’d argued, the night before Justin left, Alex remembers it like it were yesterday.

_Justin had shown up at his house, something that had become a relatively common occurrence during the months following the tapes, and every time Alex would hope to some unknown God that Justin wouldn’t leave during the night like he always did, but apparently God had better things to do than listen to the pleas of seventeen year old boys. And so when Alex heard the sound of his door opening at 5am, he’d snapped. c_

_“You’re a right prick, Foley, you know that?” Alex was still facing the wall away from the door, but he could sense Justin pausing at the doorway. After what feels like forever Justin replies, his voice quiet and timid, as though Alex is going to start throwing things at him any moment._

_“I know that.” That catches Alex off guard; he was expecting a snide and/or egotistical comment, not an acknowledgement of flaws. Maybe Justin Foley is a human being with emotions after all._

_“Good.” He can’t think of much else to say, but he turns on the lamp by his bed and sits up to look at Justin. His gaze is fixated on the floor, as though he’s praying to be swallowed whole by the carpet right there and then._

_“Is this about…what happened?” Justin mumbles, leaning ever so slightly onto the sides of his feet, scuffing the toe of his broken trainer on the floor. If anything, this makes Alex angrier, the complete disregard of their ‘encounter’, no matter how intoxicated they were, feels as though a knife has been plunged into Alex’s chest and is twisting around in his heart, never letting the blood flow out, but puncturing the vital organ nonetheless._

_“You can’t even bring yourself to say it, can you?” His voice is defeated, but retaining the element of anger held before. No response from Justin, not even a flash of emotion over his features. Tears prick as Alex’s eyes, and he can’t tell in that moment whether they’re from anger, lack of sleep, or genuine sadness._

_“What are you so afraid of?” Alex chokes out, “Is it your reputation? Is that all you care about, what people think about you? I’d bet anything that if I were some girl you would have no problem with telling people that we slept together, but no you’re terrified because you think people are going to care about who you fuck. Newsflash, Foley, your reputation is going to go down the drain as soon as people find out about the tapes, so what’s a gay scandal going to mean in the grand scheme of things, huh?” Justin’s eyes snap up from the floor, and if looks could kill Alex is certain he’d be meeting his demise right there._

_“For the last fucking time I’m straight.” Alex lets out a snort at that comment._

_“You weren’t last week.”_

_“Fuck you, Standall.”_

_“You already did.” A sharp pain erupts on the side of Alex’s jaw, the metallic taste of blood filling up his mouth. The impact knocked him off balance, and he collapses onto the bed. Justin’s breathing is labored, his hand clenched in a tight fist._

_“I’m not gay, so don’t you fucking dare tell anyone I am.” Justin’s eyes are glistening, as though he’s about to burst into tears. But Justin Foley doesn’t cry, not in front of people anyway. ‘More closed off than a toxic wasteland’ was the comparison Alex had used to describe him, when they were still on okay terms, all that is in the past now. Alex opens his mouth to retaliate, but closes it abruptly and looks away._

_“You should go.” Alex’s voice is barely above a whisper, if he speaks any louder it may break. Justin looks at him again, eyes piercing into Alex’s very soul, making him feel as though he’s on an autopsy table and being cut open and pulled apart, piece by piece. He gets his bag and goes to leave, but pauses by the door. ___

____

_“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t turn back, knowing that if he does he’ll break down and beg for Alex to forgive him, to let him stay, to let them grow old together. But that doesn’t happen, so he leaves without another word._

_“So am I.” Alex’s voice sounds strange, echoing around the empty room with no one to hear him._

Justin goes inside not long after the humiliation of Wonderwall ends, and Alex can’t help but wonder if he’ll disappear again after this. That’d be just peachy and knowing Alex’s luck, something that probably would happen to him. After what seems like hours the set finally finishes, and Alex can once again hear himself think. He packs his guitar away, paranoid of someone stealing it and then leaving him with literally nothing, before going into the main house in search of Justin, whom he sees stood by the glass doors, as though he’s waiting for Alex to come to him.

“Wanna tell me what in God’s name you’re doing here Foley? Or better yet, tell me where you’ve been for the past year?” The hostility in Alex’s tone is undeniable, but Justin can sense the underlying compassion and relief to see his old friend alive and in a state of relative health.

“It’s a party, isn’t it?” Justin smirks and takes a sip of his drink, “And I came here after our little ‘quarrel’, which I personally think you owe me an apology for.” The drink is quite possibly the most stereotypically camp drink Alex has ever seen, with a rainbow umbrella and a variety of fruits including watermelon, pineapple and strawberries. If someone had told him this is what Justin Foley would be drinking a year after his disappearance, he most likely would have laughed in their face, but here he is, in the flesh.

“In my defense you did punch me, and you had it coming,” Justin goes to walk away before Alex grabs at his elbow, “but I’m sorry if I was a bit cruel that night.”

“A bit?” Justin scoffs and takes another sip of his drink.

“Okay,” Alex sighs, “I was an asshole. I can admit that.” Justin nods and Alex remembers the initial cause of this situation. “But requesting "Wonderwall" from a serious musician…it's too far.”

Justin chokes on his drink, “My God. Did you just call yourself ‘a serious musician’?” When it’s put like that Alex feels like a bit of a stuck up twat, to say the least.

“I don’t think so.” His tone is adamant, but he can’t help but smile at the light-hearted conversation between them, it’s a relief and far better than awkward silence.

“Can I borrow what you're wearing?” Justin looks up and down Alex’s frame, taking in the woolen cardigan, washed out shirt and ripped jeans.

“Why?” Alex looks down at his attire in confusion. It was no worse than Justin’s biker jacket, leather jeans and what appear to be platform heels. Apparently LA turns you into a punk who enjoys breaking traditional gender clothing boundaries, at least that’s a positive change to his previous hyper-masculine personality.

“Because I have an audition next week. I'm playing a serious hobo.” An actor, well Justin always was good at putting on a façade for other people. Pretty cliché though, young actor in LA, trying to make ends meet.

“So you're an actor. That makes sense. Have I seen you in anything?” Justin’s condescending comment about Alex’s profession seems pretty irrelevant now.

“Uh... The coffee shop on the Warner Brothers lot. That's a classic.” He’s still smiling, fucking asshole.

“Oh, you're a barista. Well now I see how you can look down on me from all the way up there.” In all honestly Alex is surprised Justin’s managed to get a job. As cruel as it seems, he wasn’t expecting the brunette to have amounted to much once he moved away, maybe a heroin addict and prostitute, but not a steady albeit underqualified job. Out of the corner of Alex’s eye he sees Mark enter the house, his eyes searching the room. He comes over when he spots Alex, and Alex feels a little part of him die inside as the grating voice begins again. 

“Alex. Second set.” He leaves again, thankfully a man of few words in this situation; Alex would rather avoid compromising his hearing anymore. When he turns back to Justin, he sees the brunettes donning his usual smirk.

“He doesn't tell me what to do.”

“He just told you what to do.” The smirk never falters; Justin continues smiling as though he’s just won the most intensely fought debate of all time.

“I let him.” Alex really needs to work on his comebacks, these attempts are pitiful. The pair fall into silence, before Alex sighs and decides it’s best to go back to Mark and plaster a smile on until he receives a pay check for the hell he’s been through today. “Guess I’ll see you in the movies.” And with that Alex leaves the boy who broke his heart standing with a flamboyant cocktail and a wide smirk by the door.

-

Alex has never been happier at the prospect of getting back to his apartment, today has been pretty far down on his list of best days ever. He spies Justin talking to, or rather being talked at, by some random guy, and Justin looks like he’s ready to stab the guy. Rolling his eyes, Alex walks briskly down the side steps, picking up his keys valet and planning the glorious amount of sleep he won’t be getting as a result of his paper thin walls and nymphomaniac neighbors.

“Jimi Hendrix!” Alex startles slightly and turns around to see Justin grinning at him. That son of a bitch will be the death of him.

“You again.” The part of him who’d previously been relieved to see Justin is now overpowered totally by the annoyance and need for sleep he currently feels.

“Did you just get your keys?” Alex could just say ‘No’ and leave Justin there with the guy, but the sympathy he’s always had for Justin forces him to reply with a ‘Yeah’.

“Can you grab mine?” Of course he wants something, what else is new? But the pleading look on Justin’s face forces Alex to turn to the Valet.

“Which one is it?” 

“The Prius.” They’re all fucking Prius, Alex thinks, and the annoyance he felt before begins to resurface. 

“Sorry, one second,” he smiles awkwardly at the bored looking Valet. Justin notices the confusion occurring down by the Valet, and decides to throw Alex a bone, it’s not like he’s enjoying standing up here with this boring guy. He’d rather just get home. 

“The one with the green ribbon.” Alex looks up at Justin, surprised he didn’t wait for Alex to beg him for help. Why green though? Alex guesses it makes a change from all the blue he was used to seeing Justin wear. As he grabs the key there’s the thought in the back of his mind that he’s going to be seeing a lot more of Justin Foley after tonight.

-

“Shit!” Justin mutters under his breath as he narrowly avoids tripping over his shoes. Heels look fucking great, but they hurt like a bitch after a couple of hours.

“Those look comfortable.” Alex comments, and although they don’t look like the most enjoyable shoes to be wearing at night, he can’t deny the fact that Justin looks really good in them, albeit intimidatingly tall.

“They are…n’t.” Justin finishes adjusting his heel and the pair resumes walking. “Thanks for saving the day back there.” He smiles at Alex whilst pressing the button on his keys, searching for the car. 

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.” Alex can’t help but wonder whether he would have still helped Justin if the circumstances were different. They fall back into silence as Justin continues to try and find his car. Alex can see the gradual frustration growing on the brunette’s features, and he smiles slightly at the way Justin’s brow furrows in a mixture of confusion and annoyance with each failed attempt. It’s cute.

“Put the clicker under your chin.”

“What?” Justin’s gaze is so trusting it makes a warm feeling erupt in his stomach. ‘Digest those butterflies, Standall’ he tells his subconscious. Instead, he smiles at Justin and demonstrates with his keys, realizing how much it makes him look like a twat. It’s nice though, given the circumstances, the conversation could have been going entirely differently which wouldn’t have been as enjoyable and light.

“It turns your head into an antenna,” Alex continues talking, “Probably gives you cancer, but you find your car faster. You don't live as long, but you get where you’re going quicker, so it all evens out.”

“That sounds terrible.” Justin looks at him as though he just threatened to murder his pet. It crosses Alex’s mind that this is the longest time they’ve ever actually had a conversation for.

“Just a suggestion.” Alex states with a shrug. Justin spins so he’s walking up the hill backwards, looking at Alex as if he’s a piece of text being analysed for an English class.  
“You’re a real,” Justin clicks his fingers as he thinks, “What’s the word I’m looking for…”

“Knight in shining armor?” Alex smirks at the figure a few steps ahead of him.

“Weirdo,” Justin concludes, “That was the word.” Alex nods in acknowledgement, it’s not like Justin’s wrong. They’ve arrived at the top of the hill at this point, that’s the thing with LA it’s all fucking hills. The view is amazing, the colours so vivid that Alex isn’t entirely sure whether or not he’s in a dream. If he had any artistic talent he’d whip out a sketchbook and paint what he sees, though he’s not sure if he’d be painting the sunset or the boy with him. In spite of the overwhelming sense of perfection Alex sees when he looks at the skyline, he lets out a sigh before looking over at Justin.

“Not much to look at, huh?”

“I’ve seen better…” Justin wanders back over onto the path away from the side of the hill. Alex takes one last look at the view before wandering over to the nearby bench, spinning around a lamppost. Seeing Justin had made him reconsider a lot of things that he’d been doing in the last couple of months since moving to LA. Maybe he needs to find someone to develop a relationship, not Justin of course, but someone. Justin glances at him, with a questioning look as though asking ‘penny for your thoughts?’ Alex looks away from him, back at the pastel coloured sky.

“The sun is nearly gone; the lights are turning on, a silver shine that stretches to the sea.” Alex looks from the view in front of him back to the boy looking at him with a look of exasperation, but there’s something else there, something Alex can’t quite place. He has no idea how late it is, how early would be more accurate, but it’s the time of night where his mentality is pretty much ‘fuck it’.

“We've stumbled on a view that's tailor-made for two,” Alex comments nonchalantly, gesturing over his shoulder, before smirking at the boy stood opposite him, “What a shame those two are you and me. Some other girl and guy would love this swirling sky. But there's only you and I and we've got no shot.” Justin rolls his eyes, understanding that Alex is more than likely eluding the whole ‘I’m not gay’ argument that got them into this predicament in the first place. He looks at Alex with a look that says more than words could, a look that’s vaguely challenging him on the last statement. After all, it was Alex that wanted a relationship after they’d slept together.

“This could never be,” Alex waves his hand at Justin as though he’s batting away a fly, “You're not the type for me.”

“Really?” Justin can’t help but roll his eyes, Christ who does Alex even think he’s kidding? The blonde shrugs as if he’s proven his point and there’s no more to say.  
“And there's not a spark in sight, what a waste of a lovely night.” With that Alex wanders over to the bench and begins sorting out his guitar case. Justin scoffs at him, folding his arms like an indignant toddler. He certainly didn’t miss interactions like this; with Alex acting like every decision was up to him, like he was the one who knew the most.  
“You say there's nothing here? Well, let's make something clear; I think I'll be the one to make that call.” It’s been clear since they first spoke tonight that Alex hasn’t gotten over Justin, Justin isn’t stupid enough to think Alex’s words aren’t laced with sarcasm, even if the blonde denies it. 

“But you’ll call?” ‘Didn’t last time did you?’ Alex thinks to himself, eyes following Justin as he wanders over past him and stands a bit further down the hill. 

“And though you look so cute in your polyester suit…” Justin remembers how much Alex used to despise wearing suits to any event (the Winter Formal was a nightmare), he claimed they reminded him of his Father and all the black tie events he had to go to at the local precinct. He’d complained about them being too coarse and ill-fitting, and Justin preferred his ambiguous ‘homeless or hipster’ look anyway.

“It's wool.” Alex muttered, interrupting Justin who smiled mischeviously. ‘It’s also a cardigan you dumbass’ Alex thought to himself, he had no heart to say that out loud, he’d already made himself out to be a pompous prick.

“You're right, I'd never fall for you at all,” Justin rolls his eyes before adjusting his shoes, “And maybe this appeals, to someone not in heels.” Alex is looking at him with a weary expression, his clothing suddenly seeming very bland next to Justin’s. 

“Or to any girl who feels, there's some chance for romance.” The way Alex had been staring at his shoes all night had made Justin question whether the blonde had a cross-dressing kink. Not that he would be wrong, Justin was well aware that he looked fucking great in heels. He smiles at the blonde who’s started to look slightly uncomfortable under Justin’s glare, but the look doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Alex’s eyes have always been his façade’s weakness; and right now Justin can see the hope they contain, hope that the brunette somewhat reciprocates the unspoken feelings.

“But,” Justin wanders off back up the hill, standing at the top and looking down at the bewildered blonde, “I'm frankly feeling nothing.”

“Is that so?” Alex doesn’t buy that for a second, hell Justin’s been staring at him knowingly all night. The little seventeen year old crush inside of him is resurfacing, and he finds his brain begging his mouth to open and tell Justin that he never should have left, shouldn’t have tried to force him to come out, should have thought about the root cause of Justin’s fear of persecution. But he doesn’t, because that’s what Alex Standall does; he blocks people out.

“Or it could be less than nothing.” Justin spins slightly at the top of the hill, arms spread as though he’s about to take off and fly away from here, far away. Alex walks up towards the spinning boy, hands buried deep in his cardigan pockets.

“Good to know,” Justin stops spinning and looks at Alex with slightly raised eyebrows, “So you agree?” The view really is beautiful from here.\

“That’s right.” Justin looks away from the blonde’s piercing glare, back out at the sky. He hears a sigh from next to him as Alex walks past and sits on the edge of the hill, dangling his legs over the side. Justin wanders over and jumps down next to him. Neither one of them looks at the other; instead they focus all their attention on the sky. A few birds fly past, making little black shapes on the candy floss coloured sky. Alex feels Justin glance at him briefly, and when he feels the brunette’s gaze turn away he steals a glance too. Knowing that this moment won’t last but that it’s happening right now makes his heart twinge in pain again. The next thing said is by them both, almost at the same time, which in any other scenario may be eerie, but in this case it seems oddly fitting.

“What a waste of lovely night.”


End file.
